


The Art of the Tongue

by windchijmes



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windchijmes/pseuds/windchijmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(also known as the one when the Warrior and the Hobbit exchanged sex tips) </p><p>Dwalin has a proper fetish for Fili's arse. Groping, fingering, fucking, you name it. Fili is very supportive - enthusiastic, actually - of Dwalin's  little kink. Then one day, Dwalin stumbles upon the Hobbit with his head buried between Kili's legs and the angle is just...Too. Far. Down. And Kili is wailing and sobbing like his life depends on it. So, of course, like the tactician he is, Dwalin must have a talk with the Hobbit to find out about this exotic tongue business so he can go practice on his own golden lad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of the Tongue

Royal, golden _tease_.

Dwalin first arrived at that conclusion when Fili turned seventy, and has continued to uphold his opinion since. Of course, there are other Dwarves, both men and women, who notice the same thing about Fili. But none of them scrutinise, watch, and study the boy like Dwalin does.

It is in the way Fili enters and leaves a room, with his little smirk and playful toss of his golden locks over his shoulder. It is in that coy sparkle of his azure gaze, the way he gazes up at other Dwarves, especially those who tower over him, from under his golden eyelashes. The _tease_.

And most of all – and this is the part that Dwalin guards with utmost jealousy from other Dwarves for they would not and would _never_ know  – _it is in the lad’s arse_. Drowned in thick layers of coat and jerkin and breeches and weapons, there is no way to tell apart the lad’s calves, thighs and hips. All the layers render him formless.

But strip those layers off – in this Dwalin prefers the old-fashioned method of tearing them off the lad’s body – and Fili is mesmerising. Especially his buttocks. His waist is just a shade narrower than most Dwarves, and that simply accentuates the fullness of his arse. Those muscled swells are round and tight, and so _supple_ under Dwalin’s hands.

It’s come to the point when Dwalin is not training the troops or discussing strategies with Thorin, he is devising new ways to render the young golden Dwarf senseless through his arse. It’s the kind of hobby that keeps Dwalin invigorated, but no one else needs to know the nitty gritty details.

First and foremost, he just likes to grope it. He’s got huge hands, even for a Dwarf, and they practically cover all of Fili’s buttocks when he gets them on those mounds. So when he squeezes and kneads that firm flesh, the lad’s hips are helplessly jerked at the same time. Over time, he’s notched up a catalogue of different ways to keep the groping interesting. He’s done it when the lad least expects it – like that time when they were sitting down to dinner, and just before Fili’s rump got seated, Dwalin snuck his hand in there and grasped it hard, before pulling away. Fili’s voice had tripped on his dinner greetings, and Dwalin just nodded like a responsible elder.

On another memorable occasion, he had given Fili a long tunic coat that buttoned around him quite securely, and told the lad that was _all_ he was allowed to wear for that day. Fili had turned red but he had followed Dwalin’s instructions like the obedient lad he was. That was a splendid day. Like the tease he was, Fili unbuttoned the coat at certain junctures and swayed and walked in certain manners that allowed Dwalin tantalising glimpses of bare flesh beneath. It got them both so riled up Dwalin had to drag the lad away, ruck up that coat, so he could get his hands – then later, his cock – on the boy’s sweet arse. Dwalin still keeps the coat for future use.

After a while, Fili grew used to the groping, and so they needed new ways of toying with him. Dwalin startled him one day by smacking him soundly on his buttocks during one of their trysts. The lad had liked it, had gotten hard, but he also whimpered and tried to wriggle away when Dwalin didn’t let up on the smacking. Hedonistic little brat. Fili always loves a lot more pleasure than pain. Still, Dwalin does a little spanking on occasion, not enough to really hurt the boy, but just to get a few pretty stripes of red on all that smooth, golden flesh.

Most of all, however, Dwalin likes to stick things into Fili’s arse. Of course, his own fingers and cock get top priority. There is nothing like twisting his fingers deep into that quivering little ring between Fili’s buttocks to slowly, and thoroughly prepare the way for his cock later. Sometimes he uses his fingers to find that sweet mark that makes Fili scream in pleasure, because, well, it takes more time with just his fingers. He’s much better with his cock at that – not needing anything more than a few quick, brutal thrusts to find that spot and dig into it. But with fingers, he has to roll them inside Fili’s passage for a while longer – or for a _lot_ longer – and when he’s finally found it, Fili’s using his hips to fuck himself back on Dwalin’s fingers, and near-sobbing at the same time from the not-quite-enough friction.

There was that _one time_ – by Mahal’s beard it is a memory Dwalin would lock away forever in his mind for repeated future reference and mental review – when Dwalin’s cock was pounding deep into Fili’s hole, and the lad was so well-stretched and well-oiled by then, Dwalin had thought perhaps, _Fili could take another finger_. He was so, so careful, and half-mad from being careful, when he pushed in another finger with his cock and watched that ring of muscle strain and expand to fit both. Fili had groaned and his back was bowed into that feeling of being stretched to the limit, but his arse had taken it beautifully, and by the time they both came, they were thrilled for long moments after.

The golden lad indulges his little fetish. Well, not a _little_ fetish, quite a significant one, considering the many sacrifices and exercises the lad’s rump has to undergo, but Fili takes eagerly to it – too well. There are moments when Dwalin makes himself stay away from the boy. That’s the nephew of his King, and Fili is much smaller, and younger than he is. He doesn’t want to hurt the boy. But Fili, bless the lad, always seems to know when he has his doubts, and will come to him, laughing and warm, nestling into his chest, rubbing himself against him like a wanton creature in heat.

Dwalin’s never been very good at refusing pretty little things.

To this day.

++++++++++

Now _this day’s_ been quite the eye-opener for even a seasoned warrior like Dwalin, and for once, it’s not because of Fili’s behind. Well, it’s got to do with someone’s behind. Just not Fili’s. It happened when Dwalin was passing by the Hobbit’s quarters in the inn they were occupying. There were sounds coming from it, and Dwalin wasn’t going to stand there and eavesdrop, until his ears pricked up.

A few things had spun across his mind at once.

Those were distinct sounds of pleasure – muffled whimpers, stifled cries – the kind that Dwalin himself had wracked on many a bedmate, which had been mostly Fili for a while now.

Secondly, and more importantly by far, Dwalin recognised the owner of those sounds. Thorin’s other sister-son – or the one Dwalin’s not ravishing – Kili.

Dwalin hadn’t been quite sure what he wanted to do in that moment. Catch them red-handed in the throes of pleasure? String the Hobbit up and let Thorin dice him into pieces? And that was the problem. All those courses of action would lead to the uncomfortable discovery that Fili is also being regularly ravaged – by Dwalin.

So, flummoxed and frustrated and very annoyed that he had to be one to stumble upon that encounter, Dwalin just pushed the door a little ajar. It’s stupid too – not locking the bloody door.

By Mahal’s ponies.

The next moment will be forever etched in Dwalin’s life history as the time when his brain was blown.

Jaw dropping, mouth opening and closing like a foolish-looking fish, Dwalin just stared. And stared.

He’s still staring right now – _because he’s incapable of anything else_.

Kili, young, puppyish and not-even-bearded-yet Kili, is lying back on the bed, clothed from the waist up, but naked as the day he was born from waist down. His face cannot be seen – thank Mahal for that – as his head is thrown back, but Dwalin can hear the intriguing cries echoing from his mouth. His hands are clutching uncontrollably over the sheets, almost tearing into them, and  he _just keeps making those endless little moans_.

Dwalin’s gaze is almost compulsively riveted to the action causing those moans. Kili’s bared legs are jacked up high over the shoulders of the figure crouched between them.

Dwalin closes his eyes and takes a moment to compose himself after registering the visualisation of the _Hobbit’s curly head_ stuck deep between Kili’s thighs.

Then he opens his eyes again and takes clinical assessment of the sight. So, all right, Kili clearly is not an innocent in bed, and clearly neither is the Hobbit. They both look superbly practiced. The Hobbit’s body is blocking most of whatever is happening – very good. Dwalin doesn’t want to, or need to know the details. But it is quite apparent that the Hobbit is cleansing Kili’s parts with his mouth.

That’s also the part where Dwalin’s mind stumbles over itself.

Something actually seems not-right about the scene. Of course, the whole scenario of Bilbo Baggins sucking off Kili, Heir of Durin, just isn’t very plausible to begin with.

_But it’s the angle of it._

Dwalin’s enough of an expert in this area to see that the Hobbit’s head is just – too far – _down_.

What in the name of Mahal’s beard is that all about?

Now Dwalin is thinking like a tactician. The angle is too low. From that position, it is not logically or physically feasible, given the assumption that Kili’s cock is not located at his arsehole. Or is it? At that moment, another wail tears from Kili’s lips, and the young Dwarf arches off the bed, scarring Dwalin’s brain forever with a glimpse of his very vigorous, very erect cock.

So that proves it then. Dwalin overturns his earlier conjecture. Bilbo Baggins _is not_ sucking off Kili, Heir of Durin. Bilbo Baggins is doing something else to Kili, Heir of Durin. But what is it? Very stealthily, Dwalin turns his head this way and that, trying to work it out from where he is, hovering sneakily at the door. He takes a few mental notes:

One. The Hobbit seems to be pushing his face into Kili’s arse – ?

Two. The Hobbit seems to be working something – that has nothing to do with his hands and cock – _into_ Kili’s arse.

The realisation strikes Dwalin’s mind like a mattock.

The Hobbit is using his bloody –

“Deeper!” Kili cries out in that very moment. “Oh Mahal, your _tongue_ – deeper, _please_!”

By Mahal’s _fucking, flaming_ ponies.

Dwalin tries to mentally connect the key points together. Tongue. In. Arsehole.

That doesn’t sound very right. It also doesn’t look, or _seem_ very right. Dwalin’s not quite sure why he’s more worked up over the Hobbit using his tongue on Kili, rather than the whole issue of the Hobbit and Kili fucking at all, _but he is_.

So he tries again.

Tongue. In. _Fili’s_. Arsehole.

The sudden dawning of images in his brain is astonishing. _Fili_ in Kili’s place, naked limbs writhing, sobbing as he begs for more, golden hair like streams of liquid gold as he tosses his head in pleasure, holding his own legs open for _Dwalin’s tongue_ to play with his hole.

Oh.

Dwalin slides the door close and strides away like a Dwarf on a mission. He’ll let the Hobbit finish his tongue business.

Then they need to talk.

++++++++++

“I’m sorry? Would you like to repeat that?”

The great Warrior Dwarf, Dwalin, shifts in his chair again. It is a very unusual gesture for him to be fidgeting like a stripling. Bilbo Baggins is certainly not used to the sight. Then again, Bilbo Baggins is generally not used to the idea of being called into a private discussion with a Dwarf.

Crossing his arms, Dwalin looks stern and formidable. He repeats himself, “I want to talk about you sleeping with Kili.”

To the Hobbit’s credit, he just blinks as he puffs on his pipe. He blows out a perfect smoke ring, then clears his throat. “You mean fucking with Kili.”

For the second time that week, Dwalin’s jaw hangs open. Such vile language from the gentle folk. He is aghast.

“Oh get a hold of yourself,” the Hobbit just shakes his head, before he sighs and continues. “I was joking. Yes, Kili and I are sleeping with each other, if that’s what you prefer. No, we are not engaged. No, we are not eloping. No, I am most certainly not considering a three-way session with either his Uncle or his brother. And _yes_ , I do find the young man very appealing, and very lovely, indeed, much in the same way you find his _brother_ delectable.”

Dwalin’s jaw would drop again, but he catches himself in time and just stares at Bilbo Baggins with new eyes. Having gotten over his initial discomfort with the Dwarves, the Hobbit has proved to be a completely self-assured and rather cunningly shrewd character who is actually not afraid at all of the blustering of the Dwarves. And Dwalin likes him better like that, not that he’ll ever admit it.

“So,” Dwalin says, a slow grin creeping over his face. “You know that Fili and I are – ”

“ _Sleeping_ together?” Bilbo gives a smile that is more astute than mirthful. “Yes. Your boy is very loud,” he pauses, then snorts at his own slip. “Which also means you’re very good at your art, but I won’t say it again.”

Dwalin gives in to it; he guffaws loud and long. Then he remembers his true purpose, and he sobers again. “But there is something – ” he _loathes_ to say it, but he has to for the Hobbit’s cooperation. “Which I may need your advice on.”

Instantly, the Hobbit perks up. He stops puffing on that pipe and raises an eyebrow. “And that is…?”

There is no other way to say it than to say it as it is. “The way you used your tongue on his hole.”

Bilbo coughs and winces rather delicately. “Your manner of speech, gracious,” then he recovers his composure yet again and takes on the aura of a sage. “You mean _rimming_.”

“Is that what it’s – ”

“Hmm,” Bilbo hums in confirmation, before taking the pipe out of his mouth with a meaningful curl of his lip. “ _The art of the tongue_.”

“Tell me more.”

“What do I get out of it?”

Oh, that’s interesting. The Hobbit’s bargaining with him. Dwalin stares straight at him. “You tell me something. I tell you something.”

Bilbo Baggins looks as though he wants to refuse. He hems and haws, and hesitates. Then, he _smiles_. “Deal. So, what do you want to know?”

Dwalin cocks his head slowly, as though he’s turning a question over in his mind. “Is it clean?” he barks out before he can really stop himself. Well, that question is bound to appear at some point in this whole bizarre conversation.

Several small, deformed smoke rings spiral out of Bilbo’s pipe as he chokes on his chuckles. “Is there anything that’s _clean_ about the whole business of fucking?” Then he sees the pained and very solemn and rather menacing expression on Dwalin’s face and he gathers himself again. “You prepare for it, naturally. He cleans his arse, you exercise your tongue. And then – ”

And then the Hobbit goes on at length about the whole art of rimming. He begins with the preparation of the One Who Is Rimmed, explaining with excruciating precision the entire process of cleansing and ensuring that every bodily orifice is sparkling clean. Then he goes on to the skill of the One Who Is Rimming, and delves into various techniques and procedures, all designed to render the One Who Is Rimmed mindless. Through it all, Dwalin challenges some of his opinions, and debates others, and the Hobbit replies his queries with cool composure.

Dwalin feels like he’s parleying with a master strategist, never mind that the content is mostly regarding the various uses of the tongue on various holes.

It’s a very, _very_ bizarre conversation.

And to top it all off, as Dwalin finally gets up to leave, his notions of Dwarven rutting pushed to the limits, the Hobbit beckons him back with a frown. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dwalin snorts under his breath. But he obliges. A deal is a deal. Dwalin isn’t a Dwarf who would renege on one. “Use your tool, and your _finger_.”

Bilbo’s jaw drops this time. “Even farm animals know that!”

“Together.”

“What – ” the Hobbit blinks a little stupidly. “Won’t it tear?”

“Very slow, very steady,” Dwalin tosses over one shoulder as he stalks away. “The end is worth it.”

++++++++++

“Brother, I – ” Kili looks torn. His eyes dart to the door, then back to his brother, and to the door again.

“Just go, Kili, I won’t say a thing,” Fili says wryly, and nods in a long-suffering manner when Kili gives him a quick embrace before stealing out of their shared quarters.

And to the Hobbit’s room, Fili supposes.

He feels just a little guilt that he’s playing the role of the dutiful, responsible brother, because the truth is, Fili _does_ want Kili away tonight because Fili will also be in someone else’s room. With trembling hands, he retrieves the note he got earlier in the day. On one side, it just says: _Tonight_. And on the other, it contains a set of instructions as to what Fili has to do to prepare himself for whatever his lover’s planning.

Very detailed instructions.

Fili’s heart is already beating much faster than normal, and it’s always like this when he thinks of his _lover_. Dwalin. Huge, and towering and fearsome when he’s around the others. And he is the same in the bedroom, but gentle when Fili wants him to be, and tender when Fili doesn’t expect it.

He reads the instructions again, and wants to chuckle and blush at the same time. He should have guessed it would be something to do with his _rear_. Fili thought it strange at first, when they were just starting to tumble a little with each other, but he realised quickly that the attention Dwalin showered on his rump always ended in mind-numbing pleasure for the both of them, and Fili grew to love it. Then he learnt to encourage it, in a coy, half-oblivious manner that drove Dwalin quite mad.

Smiling to himself now, Fili strips himself of his clothing and steps into the bathing quarters in Dwalin’s room. According to instructions, he has to –

His eyebrows raise a little.

Taking a deep breath, he scoops up a jar of water, and reaches between his legs.

++++++++++

He is late that night. The discussions with Thorin and Balin have taken longer than expected, and Dwalin would never allow himself to be distracted, or to cut short the talks. Not even when he knows there is an eager, young golden lad waiting for him in bed.

But the discussions do come to an end, and Dwalin bids the others a restful night, even as he is anything but restful as he strides towards his quarters. Quite the opposite, in fact, there is a _storm_ raging in his insides.

When he reaches the door, he pauses, not quite knowing what to expect. He is aware of the few possible options, of course. Fili can be very creative with himself. Dwalin’s opened the door in the past to find Fili pleasuring himself on the bed, fingering himself with his arse facing the door for Dwalin’s discovery. And once, he actually managed to tie himself to the bed, the little brat.

But tonight, after Dwalin unlocks the door and slides it open, he finds to his amusement, Fili asleep on the bed.

Dwalin takes his time now. He peels off his thickly-furred outervest, then the leather jerkin and undershirt beneath until he is clad in just his breeches, all the while circling the bed on which his golden lad is sleeping. Dwalin’s gaze is dark and hungry as it rakes over the young Dwarf. There is only a thin sheet covering Fili up to his waist, and as Fili shifts in his sleep, the sheet slips down and it becomes clear that Fili is very naked under it.

Dwalin has a strict moral code that he follows in his life. And he can be honourable if he wants to. On occasion, he is even gentlemanly. Not tonight. Feeling much like a filthy, thieving, lecherous villain, and caring naught for it, Dwalin takes the sheet and slides it off the sleeping lad. He has to take several moments to rein in his lust, force it down under control, as he stares greedily at the naked form of his young lover.

Moist heat wisps off Fili’s skin, which is damp and flushed from his bath. There is a little frown between his brows now, as his body senses its own vulnerability without the sheet, and his thighs cross together as if to protect himself from predators. It is in vain, however, as Dwalin’s weight depresses heavily onto the bed, and his great bulk advances over the young Dwarf.

Dwalin doesn’t touch – not yet – though his hands ache to track over all this sweet, pale flesh laid out for him. There is something more important. When he is finally fully crouched over Fili, raised on his hands and knees, Dwalin leans down and presses his lips to the kink between the lad’s golden brows.

Fili’s eyes are already open, though hazy with sleep, and now he blinks kittenishly up at Dwalin, a slow smile lighting up his face. “You’re late,” he accuses without any bite to his tone, and he wraps his arms around Dwalin’s neck to pull his head down.

Like he’s said, Dwalin’s no good at refusing pretty things. So he obliges, leaning his much heavier weight deeply into the young Dwarf, shoving his arms under Fili to haul him _up_ to be kissed thoroughly and roughly. The lad’s golden locks leave damp trails over Dwalin’s skin, teasing him as much as the little whimpers Fili’s making into his mouth. Dwalin doesn’t show him any mercy, though, bending Fili’s head back with the force of his kisses, crushing the boy’s lips with his own. Fili’s legs open and curl around his waist, and Dwalin’s groping hands find his buttocks, squeezing them and pulling his hips up to grind their groins together.

Dwalin’s as experienced on the battle-field, as he is in the pleasures of the flesh. But in moments like these, he fancies he can come just like this, dry-rutting against this eager golden lad. Fili’s own cock is already hard and leaving wet streaks against the front of Dwalin’s breeches where it’s rubbed between their bodies. It’s too much, too soon, and there’re _more things_ Dwalin wants to do. So, with a harsh groan, he pulls his mouth off the young Dwarf, then gives in when Fili actually growls in protest and sucks several bruises into the boy’s neck, before he lifts himself and presses Fili down to the bed with one hand between their thrumming bodies.

Dwalin stays that way for a long moment, trying to gather his senses back under control. He’s going to need all his concentration later.

“Dwalin,” Fili squirms under his hand, but cannot do much else against Dwalin’s greater strength. “What are you waiting for? This is unlike you.” He would have looked rather impressively ferocious with that scowl on his young face, if he doesn’t actually look more endearing. He presses both hands onto the bed to get enough leverage to lift himself up a little higher. “I prepared myself for you. Made myself clean _down there_.” His voice deepens, grows huskier. “Don’t you want me?”

A growl thunders in Dwalin’s chest, swiftly followed by longing groans. Mahal, he doesn’t just _want_ the boy. He wants to _ravish_ the boy into the bed until he cannot walk for days after. But then he remembers the whole afternoon with the Hobbit, what Dwalin really wants to do with the boy, and he has to hold himself back now. And he needs to work up the will to actually _do_ the deed.

“Is it the quest?” Fili asks suddenly. His eyes are wide now, and concerned, the petulance gone. He wraps his arms around Dwalin’s neck again, not in wanting, but in comfort. “Something worries you.”

Dwalin doesn’t know how to reply that it is not the quest, but the business of putting his tongue on Fili’s arsehole that is the urgent matter here. So, he snorts and kisses the lad’s forehead again, then his nose, and finally, his eager mouth.

Fili’s hands are just as enthusiastic, finding their way to Dwalin’s breeches and unlacing them nimbly. “Let me put your worries to rest,” he says between their kisses. His hands slip into Dwalin’s loosened breeches and find their prize.

Dwalin moans into the lad’s golden hair as his erection is freed from his breeches and pulled out by warm, clever hands. They tug and stroke and pet his cock until it is rock-hard and leaking from its heavy tip. The lad’s head is moving down, and Dwalin grows even more aroused at the realisation.

He rears back onto his haunches so that Fili can sit up. The lad wastes no time, lowering his head between Dwalin’s legs and taking his warrior’s arousal deep into his mouth. His lips and tongue work quickly, and thoroughly, pulling and sliding over Dwalin’s cock with suckling heat. Dwalin waits until Fili nods his head, then he braces his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and begin to fuck slowly in and out of that pretty mouth. Mahal…the pleasure pools molten and heavy in Dwalin’s loins. He keeps his gaze open, making sure he can see the lad’s azure eyes riveted on him from between his thighs. Even like this, his mouth stretched and wet and full of Dwalin’s cock, the lad teases him. His blue eyes glint with playfulness, and his hands drift from Dwalin’s waist down to the warrior’s buttocks to squeeze them. Then, several fingers push between those hard, hairy arsecheeks to slide up and down the crack.

Dwalin laughs and snarls at the same time, feral in his throat. _Little wench_. He’s picked up all of Dwalin’s own fetishes and made them his own. The brat. He doesn’t do much thinking after that though, tension beginning to unfurl in his thighs and groin. He has enough coherence to tug once at the lad’s hair, and Fili understands, backing off until only the head of Dwalin’s erection remains in his mouth.

Dwalin’s body bows into the release, and groans fall unfettered from his lips as his cock spurts copious streams of fluid into Fili’s mouth. The lad swallows most of it; he’s gotten good at it. But still, he’s unable to take all of it, and he pulls away, keeping one hand stroking at Dwalin’s pulsing cock, while he wipes at his own mouth with the other.

Drained and panting heavily, Dwalin just sags onto his knees, waiting for his mind to recover itself. His gaze is a little bleary, but it flares just a little, when he sees and feels Fili licking the head of his cock fastidiously clean. He doesn’t quite understand how the lad can be like this – prim and proper and wanton _at the same time_.

Satisfied with himself, Fili clambers up onto his knees and squirms his way into Dwalin’s chest, embracing the warrior around the neck. “How was I?” he asks, with that smirking little grin like he _knows_ he’s done brilliantly, but wants to be praised anyway.

“You were good,” Dwalin nudges their foreheads together. “ _More than good_ ,” he finishes and means every word of it. Dwalin’s has had many willing partners in bed, but more and more lately, he finds they don’t quite measure up to this beguiling golden boy in his arms now. Because Fili isn’t just willing. His every touch and caress aches with complete need and want for Dwalin.

Fili’s grin turns smug. “How will you reward me?”

One of Dwalin’s hands has already found its way to the lad’s succulent arse. He pinches one arsecheek soundly, deciding he likes the yelp of indignation from the boy. “Make you scream,” Dwalin suggests, his fingers drifting into that tight cleft between those lovely swells the same way Fili had fondled him moments ago.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Fili sniffs, lifting his chin archly. “I’m not so easily courted.”

Dwalin remembers suddenly how the usually fiery and blustering Kili is reduced to a wailing mess from the Hobbit’s tongue, and he knows now with absolutely no doubt he wants the same of Fili – _and then more_.

“Oh, I’ll do the courting,” Dwalin leans down and hooks his powerful arms under Fili’s legs. The lad is breathing hard already, eyes shining in the dim chamber light. “Then I’ll do _more_ than courting.” Taking the smaller Dwarf’s weight completely into his arms, he bends forward and lowers the boy onto the sheets again, dragging a pillow under the younger Dwarf’s back to prop him up.

“I’m going to lick you,” he demonstrates by drawing his tongue over Fili’s lips, pulling back just as Fili pushes up for more. “Then suck you…” he kisses his way down the boy’s trembling skin, taking just a quick moment to flick his tongue over the hardening nipples on the chest. “Then toy with you until you’re screaming and begging…” He grips Fili’s lean, muscled thighs, then draws them up and out to open that sweet body up to his ravenous gaze. “And _then_ , I’ll think about it…shall I let you come, or shall I leave you hard and hanging and crying…” He lowers his mouth till it hovers between Fili’s splayed thighs, then looks up, hard and intense, into the boy’s widened eyes.

“Please…Dwalin…” Fili whispers, and his voice is so needy, brimming with longing and an enticing sultriness that comes naturally to him. This is Fili, who can seduce the King’s greatest warrior with nothing more than a single, earnest plea.

The lad expects Dwalin’s mouth on his cock. So Dwalin bends his head lower and drags his tongue, hot and heavy, over Fili’s twitching _hole_.

Fili’s whole body jerks, a shocked cry erupting from him. “Dwalin!” he gasps, and his legs are quivering like he wants to twist away. His hands are just as shaky when they press onto Dwalin’s bare head. “What are you –” he protests, trying his best to rise to his elbows so he can look down properly at Dwalin. “That’s filthy! I – _I’m dirty there_ – ” He falters, cheeks turning crimson with shame.

So this is what the whole point of rimming is, Dwalin discovers as he studies the flushed, anxious visage of his lover. The lad has already been taken in a stunning myriad of positions by Dwalin’s fingers and cock, but he trembles now from being caressed so intimately in the deepest part of him. He thinks himself filthy and does not want to dirty Dwalin with it; there is something so innocent and sweet and intoxicating about it, Dwalin is already planning to do a whole lot more to the boy.

“You’re not dirty. Don’t ever say that in my presence again,” Dwalin orders him in a low, hard snarl. He lowers his head again. From there, Dwalin can smell the thick musk of Fili’s arousal, and the scent of it sends tendrils of warmth right into Dwalin’s already-spent loins. Amazing. He scrutinises that tiny ring of muscle between Fili’s spread thighs. It quivers and blushes, and _glistens_ from Dwalin’s earlier attentions. He blows on it, warm puffs of heat that draws a harsh gasp from the lad. Still holding the boy’s attention, he presses his lips to it and feels the body beneath his mouth jerk uncontrollably. He starts slowly, just fleeting, nipping kisses over that puckered muscle at first, then he applies more pressure when Fili begins to moan in earnest. Hungry wet sucks of his mouth, alternating with rough flicks from his tongue.

Above him, Fili is coming undone like an unravelling coil. All his earlier protests are quite forgotten now as he clenches his hands into the sheets. He is still staring down at Dwalin, as though he is mesmerised and simply cannot look away, but little whimpers are hitching from his chest, and he is panting so hard.

“Dwalin…” the lad pleads. “That feels…oh Mahal…Dwalin…” he babbles incoherently. “Please…I…need…” his last word rises sharply into a cry as Dwalin’s mouth suckles over the sensitive strip of skin between his arsehole and his balls.

Dwalin tortures him with the heated, slithering pleasure, moving up ever so slowly until his lips reach the lad’s testicles. But he avoids them, knowing that _that_ is familiar pleasure, and intent now on other ways to make his lover scream tonight.

He lifts his head and grins wolfishly down at his wrecked mess of a lover. “Good?” he teases, and very much approves of the way Fili’s legs are such a lovely pale contrast to the pink of his arsehole, and how it gleams and twitches now like it’s beckoning to him. Mahal, Dwalin stares at it, entranced. He wants to _taste_ it.

“More…” Fili’s hands are stretched longingly towards him, so unlike his usual laughing, cocksure self. “Please…your tongue…I want it…”

“Where?”

“On…me…” Fili stutters on his words, then tries again, his entreaties spilling out in one breath. “Oh, I don’t know… _more_ , please, Dwalin, you’re terrible!”

Dwalin almost guffaws at that bit, especially when it is cried out with such _temper_. His _impetuous_ little lover. But the boy has begged him so prettily, after all. So, he settles himself back between Fili’s legs, keeping them spread like wanton offering, and he just waits.

“Show me,” Dwalin says, and his tone begins to deepen. He wants Fili to hear his lust and how much this is pleasuring him as much as it is the boy. “Guide me…show me where you want my tongue…”

A keening, helpless moan resounds from Fili’s throat. His cock has already swelled to full hardness and now it throbs before Dwalin’s eyes. He places his hands on Dwalin’s head, unsteady from trying so hard not to yank, and he tugs, hesitantly, urgently, then shamelessly until Dwalin’s head is deep between his thighs, and his mouth on Fili’s entrance.

When Dwalin’s tongue braces against that puckering hole, then squirms inside, Fili’s body is writhing desperately from the intrusion. Dwalin doesn’t linger any more. He drives his tongue – all large, slippery, heated muscle – into Fili’s arsehole, wriggling and thrusting and pushing until his whole tongue is inside Fili. The boy is wailing by then, loud and long, as he tosses his head in desperation. _And he doesn’t look away_. His gaze is wild and glazed and riveted on Dwalin, mouth open with pants and little animal noises. Dwalin drinks in his lover’s pleasure, even as his tongue fucks deeper. It’s heady and mad and _carnal_. He digs his chin down and lets his thick, coarse beard scratch and tickle over the oversensitised skin of the lad’s inner thighs and groin.

There is no resistance at all now in Fili’s passage; it is slick from both fluids and Dwalin’s saliva. Dwalin stiffens his tongue, spearing it in and out of Fili’s hole, plundering him with aching thoroughness. The lad is close to the edge, delirious from the flood of sensations from Dwalin’s mouth and beard, but he doesn’t touch himself, fingers clawing welts into the sheets.

 _Almost_. Even the lad’s balls are hard now. So Dwalin keeps his tongue wedged deep in Fili, just undulating within him, and he releases one of the boy’s legs to grip his cock. It takes just a few strokes before there’s a near-scream and Fili’s body bucks up like a snapped cord and he’s coming in furious, thick spurts.

It takes a longer moment than usual for Fili to empty his release. When Dwalin withdraws, gingerly rubbing at his jaw, he’s treated to the sight of his young lover spread-eagled on the bed, hair matted to his perspiring skin, the milky white of his seed smeared all over his stomach and chest. His breathing is still uneven, interspersed with plaintive little mewls and he’s staring blankly and dazedly at Dwalin. He doesn’t even have the strength to curl into Dwalin like he always does after rutting.

So Dwalin has to do the work even now, pulling and arranging the boy’s sated limbs until he’s tucked into Dwalin’s much larger, coarser bulk. The warrior lifts a hand and tousles Fili’s tattered golden hair. “How was I?” he rumbles with a laugh.

The lad doesn’t stir at first. Then like a dormant creature slowly coming to life, he shifts and wriggles until he is draped over Dwalin. There is a blindingly enthralled grin on his face when he stares down at Dwalin.

“You were _astounding_ ,” he says breathlessly, cheeks flushed.

Dwalin snorts. He decides he should thank the Hobbit when he sees him again. He may not have immediately taken to the idea of using his tongue on Fili, but the experience has been nothing short of spectacular. And looking at how pleased Fili is now and what a quick learner he usually is, there are very high chances Dwalin will have rimming reciprocated on _him_. But for the moment, Dwalin thinks he will take a few days of rest. He didn’t think much of it when he was performing it, but now his tongue is _fucking sore_.

Then, of course, Fili declares, “I want it again tomorrow night.”

By Mahal’s _fucking, flaming and rimming_ ponies.

++++++++++

The next day sees the Hobbit and the Warrior up bright and early by their ponies.

“How was it?” Dwalin starts.

“Astonishing,” Bilbo smiles. Pleased with himself. “You?”

“ _Astounding_ ,” Dwalin replies. Smugly. Wiping the arrogance off the Hobbit’s face just a little.

A fair bit of silence.

Bilbo begins first: “Heavy round object on table. Practice pushing with your tongue until you get seasoned and dexterous with it.”

“Iron bar. Clench and unclench your fingers until you build enough strength and flexibility,” Dwalin finishes curtly.

They go the same path on their separate ponies, oddly satisfied.

Such is the art of fucking, after all.

 

 

_finis_

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
